The New, Unimproved Chris Abeley
by SeeminglyAngelic
Summary: Even through all the pain and suffering he'd been through, and the pain and suffering he's causing, he still has one pride left. That her precious little Dempsey had never gone as far as he had. What is he? Living proof that jealousy is a sin. -death-
1. Different

**Disclaimer: This is officially disclaimed. Yeah, yeah, yeah.**

**AN: This is an idea-tester, tell me what you think! Since Chris is going Goth and all. Dedicated to: Dernier Cri, HPgirl008, Wingzz, SushiBowl, CasaBonitaRocksMySocks, Gaara-Kiba-Sasuke, SourSkittles26, and anyone who's ever reviewed or added me to favorites or alerts. **

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_1_

"_**O**_h come on Layne!" Claire Lyons laughed. "I'm sure he's not _that_ bad!"

Layne Abeley rolled her eyes and checked to make sure that Chris wasn't listening. He was focused on the road ahead, gripping the steering wheel. He didn't turn around, but seemed tense and agitated, making Layne feel afraid to even move.

Chris had been like that since he'd been turned down by Massie Block. The very idea disgusted Layne for three main reasons. A: it was _Massie Block_. B: He was like, four years older. That was like Harris Fisher going out with someone like Alicia Rivera. C: It was _Massie Block_, the girl who had used Layne. That apparently didn't matter to Chris.

"Yes he is!" Layne whispered, glancing at her brother's head. "He's kind of freaking me out with it. I mean, he spends all day in his room blasting heavy metal in the dark. And he _hates_ metal!"

Claire gave Layne a look like she was overreacting, and sighed. "Listening to Gothic music in the dark as opposed to…?"

"Spending _quality time_ with me, hanging out with the guys, playing sports, Chris Abeley stuff. Not planning out Derrick Harrington's death."

Chris looked around at Derrick's name, but said nothing, face twisted into a scowl. Layne's hairs stood up on the back of her neck in an unusual way. He'd never been like that before. Claire's eyes were wide and her face was flushed like she'd just seen a monster.

_Worse_, she'd seen the new unimproved Chris Abeley.


	2. Anyone Can Enter A Chatroom

**Disclaimer: I don't own the edits, or other stuff. Just the chapter, and chapter name. (Thanks DC!)**

**AN: I tried to make sure the narration outweighed the IMs, but it doesn't look like it on FF. The site stretches everything out you know. :(**

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**_2  
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**_M_**assie Block put Bean down and sighed while the girls said their goodbyes and signed off. It was boring to be the last one on the internet, so she left the chat room open. Maybe Claire would sign on soon, apologizing for being late. She certainly hoped so.

**C321456 has entered chat room 879867253253  
**  
Massie cocked an eyebrow. Who was this C? Did Claire finally realize how corny her penname was and change it? Because this sounded more mysterious and chic than "ClaireBear". They were thirteen now, having baby care-bear pennames was so over. Claire might as well have been "Share Bear", if Massie cared enough to think about it.

Shaking her head to rid herself of the thought, she started typing.

**Massiekur: You're late, Kuh-laire!**

The clock ticked for a while, Massie growing more impatient with each resounding tick of the needle. If Claire didn't reply soon, her newly found beta status was going to be revoked. Dylan would have to be the beta once again, like in September. (Alicia wasn't allowed anymore, since the whole new clique thing).

**Massiekur: KUH-LAIRE, ANSWER ME!**

C321456: This is not Claire.

Not Claire? Massie felt furious. What was this, some random wannabe? She had enough stalkers calling already; she didn't need them emailing her! Just before she was about to tell C to get lost, an IM popped up.

**C321456: Drop him.**

Massiekur: What? Who is this?

Mkay, this was getting very creepy now. "Drop him"? Who was this person, first of all? Massie would've rather had someone tell her bad news, like Alicia saying Nina was returning, or Claire screeching about some new acting job. Anything but this.

She wanted to yank the computer plug out of the socket, and toss the whole thing out the window. Yet, she was frozen to her seat until the next IM came in.

**C321456: Drop-Him.**

Massiekur: I'm leaving!

Massiekur has left chat room 879867253253  
  
Massie switched her computer screen off, and walked over to her bed, cuddling Bean to her chest. This was past creepy. She closed the modern blinds over her windows, and even walked into her closet, closing the door behind her.

**Massiekur has received one email from C321456! Ding!**

The computer beeped. The soft ding made her jump, and Massie hugged Bean tighter , searching her pockets for her cell phone. She didn't feel safe alone anymore.

**Massiekur has received five emails from C321456! Ding!**

Five emails? Massie pressed five on speed dial, which was of course Claire. One was Dylan, two was Alicia, three was Kristen, and four was Jakkob.

"Hello, you've (um) reached Claire Lyons! I'm not actually there right now (Uh, wait that sounded bad!) Hi, I can't come to the phone… (No!). You know what; just leave a message after the beep. BEEP!"

Massie rolled her eyes, but left a message anyway. "Okay, we're going to have to work on a new away message. Anyway, come over as soon as you're done with Insane Layne. Why do you even hang out with that girl? Love ya!"

**Massiekur has received ten emails from C321456! Ding!**

This was really freaking her out now. Slowly walking back to the computer, she saw that each email had the same two words: "DROP HIM". Not only that, but C couldn't be traced to anyone she knew.

One more email popped up, catching her interest. It was from C, yet again.

**From: C321456  
To: Massiekur  
June 22nd, 2008, at 4:32 PM**

If you don't drop him, I'll do it for you.  
  
What did that mean? Was C going to spread some rumor that Massie was "dropping him"? Was C going to get somebody to pretend to be her on AIM? This didn't make any sense, and it wasn't really making her feel any better. But the question running through her head the most was:

_Who was this C person?_

* * *

**_L_**ayne waited on the steps of OCD impatiently. Sure the school was closed for the summer, but her swim team liked to practice there. (The school pool was awesome, she had to admit.)

Finally, a car pulled up, windows tinted. She was the only person left, so of course it was Chris.

"What took you so long?" She grumbled, climbing into the big black Sedan. Why wasn't he driving their parents red Ferrari like he used to? Showing it off to his friends was essential for life! Layne couldn't take anymore changes.

"Business," Chris muttered vaguely, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

* * *

**_B_**OY FOUND DEAD IN FRONT OF SCHOOL!

Dempsey Solomon was found outside of Briarwood Academy on June twenty-second, (yesterday). He was out in the middle of the road, sprawled out. Witnesses say that an unmarked black Sedan had caused this tragedy in a hit-and-run accident.

The windows were tinted, so none of the witnesses could see the culprit, but it was reported that the driver was in a hurry. After hitting Solomon, the driver backed away, and sped off in the general direction of Octavian Country Day.

_More on page ten._


	3. No Respect For the Dead

**Disclaimer: PLOT BY ANGELMUSICLOVEBABY:) And some other stuff by Lisi Harrison. :/**

**AN: Of course she wouldn't suspect him, Massie really doesn't pay much attention to others.

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**_**3**_

_**L**_ayne couldn't help but stare at the line of people, waiting to pay their respects. Even Massie Block and her so-called Pretty Committee were there, looking like either they couldn't believe it, or like they'd just broken a nail.

"Can you believe this?" She whispered, eyeing the back of Chris's head. He looked out of place with the sniffling people in black. His "serious face" was on, but he looked casual in his old sports jacket and black T-shirt. The Solomon family kept glancing over at him, wondering why he was wearing jeans at a black-tie event. If you could count a funeral as one.

Claire shook her head, eyes fixed elsewhere. Layne rolled her eyes. This either meant one of two things. Claire was either going to cry over the death, cry and have a mental montage over the "good times" with Cam, or run off to comfort Massie.

_Massie,_ Layne felt the name ring in her head. Wasn't it strange that Dempsey had just been killed? The whole Sedan thing was signaling her sixth sense, but she had waved it away, seeing as her mother had gotten a ticket driving the Ferrari. Maybe Mrs. Abeley just hadn't wanted it traced back to her, since she thought speeding was the answer.

"You were, like, really HART," Massie was saying to the grave stone now, putting some white roses down. One tear just barely fell down her face, like she was trying to remain chic. Her friends patted her shoulders as they headed away, looking like serious actors.

"Uh, I didn't know you, but from what Massie had said…yeah," Claire's eyes were glazed over, and she wiped them subconsciously. She placed a little flower there cautiously, like Dempsey would jump out of the grave, and headed back to her seat.

Layne nodded politely. "Ditto, because the Massie-chists never shut up about you." She put a matching flower there, and put her hands in her pockets. Chris had lagged behind, and was now staring at the gifts by the stone, like he was now seeing them for the first time.

"Chris? Don't you want to pay your respects?" She finally asked, getting freaked out by her brother's stare.

"Yeah, yeah, sure."

Layne took a few steps away, but stopped dead in her tracks when she heard Chris clear his throat.

His eyes were glinting dimly, and he had that Chris-smirk on when he muttered: "I guess you never _did_ get that date with Massie, huh Solomon?"

* * *

"_**I**_sn't this just so…weird?" Massie asked, twirling a lock of caramel-highlighted hair. "I mean, one day he gives me flowers, and the next day he's dead!" She looked around at the others like they were supposed to gasp and rear back. 

"Maybe that was his last gift!" Claire piped up, not wanting to drag Chris into this. "In case he knew that would happen!" Each girl looked at Claire like she was crazy. Why would someone like Dempsey, who'd found sudden popularity commit suicide or something like that? Claire obviously realized how unrealistic that was and closed her mouth. Massie went back to looking at the bouquet of daisies. Personally, she would've preferred roses, but hey. They were white, just like he other flowers at the funeral.

"Does this mean that the boy fast is back on?" Alicia asked, tearing her eyes away from the New York Yankees hat she held in her hands. She looked miserable.

"Uh, no!" Massie scoffed. "We can't be alphas without a pet." The girls giggled at her choice of words, but still felt the tension in the room. There was a cough, and they sighed simultaneously.

So for the next…while (Who knew how long Alicia could talk?) Massie pretended to listen to some rumor she'd heard about a week ago. But, her mind was elsewhere.

"_Hey, Block!" Dempsey had smiled, presenting her with yet another bouquet of flowers. She smirked and sniffed them daintily, knowing Derrick was watching with jealously. He was the only one allowed to call her Block!_

"_These are beautiful! I think I'll put them with the pink tulips you gave me yesterday," she made sure to raise her voice. Why hadn't Derrick ever given her flowers? Oh, that's right! Because he had never been "romantic" enough. Hah, that was why Dempsey was so much better. Almost perfect, which kind of creeped her out._

_He had to have some flaw! But, if he did, he refused to show it, at least around her. Yes, Dempsey had gone to Africa an LBR, and returned to New York a star. It was like…a male Nina. (Shudder)_

_After Massie had fawned over the flowers for about five minutes, Derrick had grabbed Dempsey's shoulder._

"_So, you really think it'll work out? With her IMMATURITY and all?" Derrick had asked through clenched teeth. Massie scowled for a second, but smelled the flowers again._

"_Yeah, I do," Dempsey sounded confident. He was so perfect for her!_

"_I don't," was all Derrick had said, but it was enough._

But…did this mean…? Was it Derrick?

* * *

"_**W**_hat happened to that poor boy was awful, don't you think?" Mrs. Abeley had asked the morning after the funeral. Layne had merely nodded, and went back to counting her Cheerios – a classic idiosyncrasy. Her father had sighed heavily, like that Dempsey dude's death was a burden for him. 

"Chris, honey," Mrs. Abeley continued. "Didn't he go to your school?"

Chris hid his smirk behind his black i-pod. "Uh-huh."

"I understand that this could be a little hard for you," Mr. Abeley announced in his low, bass voice. "Since Dempsey was one of your classmates, you may feel strange about the death. I just want you to know, that I understand. Someone who was in by school, his locker was right across from mine, had an incident with his medicine. Some people said it was insulin, and others said it was for something else, but I felt strangely depressed, even though I never knew him. Is that what's happened to you, son?"

Chris looked close to snickering, Layne observed. "No, it's okay, I'm fine."

"You sure, son?"

"Believe me, I'm _perfectly fine…_"

Those last two words echoed in Layne's head as she watched Chris grab his Jansport off of the table. He was unsually bright today. Okay, he hadn't exactly danced and sang the Tropicana "Good Morning" song, but still. And he hadn't blasted one punk song yesterday.

It was a little strange that he was so calm and almost normal once Dempsey was dead, Layne decided. Was he just reacting in a weird way?


	4. Broken In

**Disclaimer: I don't own, but if I did, then this would be finished and published.**

**AN: I changed my mind with this, and now I'm happy! I apologize for the shortness, but I have something else planned!**

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**4**

_**T**_orn to pieces. Destroyed. Wrecked. Ruined. A complete mess. Trashed. A pigsty. Horrifying. An organizers' worst nightmare.

However you put it, it was still the same. _Severely messed up._ Massie stepped over her mannequin (which had been crudely knocked over), and headed over to the closet, where Bean barked miserably. Who would be heartless enough to lock a puppy in a closet? Surveying the room with Bean in her arms, one thing was clear: someone had been in there. Someone unwanted.

Jewelry. Random clothes. Hair products. Handbags. Picture albums. CDs. Nail polish. Doggy blankets. Shoes.

It all lay before her in a pathetic heap. The piles of her possessions seemed to all say: _we tried to stop him, but we couldn't do anything_. The same sad expression the old lady who thought she was cool had whenever her hideous (and poorly groomed) pit bull tried to make Bean a snack.

Picking up a wet D&G shirt, she realized the sprinkler system had been on. Averting her eyes to the pile on the right side of her circular bed, Massie realized why. Pictures that had been badly torn lay there, half-singed. There was another pile of photos, but they were all together. It was like they were in a pattern.

The photo of her and the girls: together. Her parents: in tact. Dempsey's smiling face: ripped. Her and Derrick at A Slice of Heaven: singed. Claire and Dylan making goofy faces: left alone. Alicia and Kristen – back when Alicia was teaching Kristen how to do the 'model face': in pristine condition. Massie and Dempsey on a date: Dempsey's face was nothing more than ash.

The halves to some of the pictures lay in the first pile, some burned, some half-burned, and some just ripped to shreds. It was only Derrick and Dempsey's faces that had been mutilated in the pictures; there was a photo of her standing right in between Cam and Josh that was left crumpled on her bed. Actually, she'd been cut out – it was just Cam and Josh.

A piece of folded yellow paper caught Massie's attention. It was folded and taped to her mirror, which had been streaked with Glossip Girl's _Red Macintosh_.

_Like the renovations? Because I loved the pictures. Maybe we could meet up some time._

The emails were one thing. She could block a user any time she wanted. Back then, it had probably been some loser who'd seen her MySpace profile and thought he'd be able to stalk her. The newspaper was another; sure it was the most horrifying news in her life, but it had nothing to do with her personal safety. This, was completely different however. Because, if she'd been home about one minute earlier, the fresh scent of smoke told her that she would've been shredded and burned in one of the piles. And that was scarier than anything.

* * *

_**K**_risten stared at the mess before her, looking horrified. Even a whole day later, it had been impossible to clean. Massie's room had been taped off, and a bunch of men and women who could've walked right of the set of _Law and Order_ or _CSI_ bustled around, brushing everything for fingerprints.

"Can you believe this? Wasn't Inez home?" Claire asked softly. It was kind of obvious that she wasn't sure what to say, and had just asked the first question that had come to mind. Layne (who'd been dragged there by Claire), patted her friend's shoulder. The other girls didn't even respond.

"Yes," the middle-aged woman with the African head wrap said solemnly. "We found the housekeeper trapped in the basement. I wouldn't advise anyone here to put a lock on the _outside_ of anything."

Kristen could only nod, and stare at the pile of Massie's shoes. At any moment, a pile of shoes lying unattended would've excited her. But now, it was just plain scary. Things were scattered everywhere, and the usually crisp room felt cramped.

"Can we see the letter the person left?" Alicia's voice was practically as soft as Claire's. The woman motioned for a silver-haired man to pass the sheet of paper over.

Kristen, Dylan, Alicia, Claire, and Layne each read it, eyes narrowed. Why was the handwriting so familiar?

"Jenkins suspects that it could be linked to the death of Dempsey Solomon, because the rented car was searched for fingerprints, and they match the ones on almost every surface in here – except for Miss Block's, and your own."

Kristen snatched it out of Alicia's hands, and scanned it one more time. "Would it be okay if I took this with me?"

The woman nodded, and went over to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Block, who were standing there, just looking shocked. Even Mrs. Block, who looked almost like Shrek from all of the work she'd had done looked traumatized. Silence hung over the room eerily, and Kristen headed back to the staircase, deciding it would be better to get a closer look at home.

--


	5. Too Far In

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed!**

**AN: I'm sorry this is so short! If it was longer, the mood would be killed!_

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_5_

_**T**_he locker shut with a reverberating _bang, _which echoed off of the silence in the locker room. It had taken him about twenty minutes just to stuff everything inside, without coming out too dirty. Putting the boy's lock back on, Chris froze for a moment, his mind caught in wonder.

Was this wrong? Well the answer to that was _no duh_. The only reason it had occurred to him in question form was so he'd feel that pang of guilt. _Once you've gone this far, there's no going back. And there's no guilt either,_ Chris reminded himself as he looked in the mirror.

Washing his hands for the millionth time, he decided that _some_ guilt would be allowed. He hadn't wanted to do it. That stupid girl made him. _She_ just had to come into the boys' locker room, looking to interview that Harrington kid. And Derrick was out on the field until the end of the game. It wasn't like he hated her, but this was all her fault. She was one of those brainless followers who'd tried to convince Massie that Dempsey was the right one.

She was obviously wrong. Would precious little Dempsey go as far as he had for her? It gave him some sort of sick pleasure. Massie needed to realize that the perfect being stood before her. Grades, friends, athletic ability (a six-pack). He made her two exes look like scrawny little toothpicks.

The front door opened and he dashed out, fighting the urge to laugh. Only the stupid had been victimized by him, and who would miss them? The world was now free of the two of them, so wasn't he, in some way, doing the planet a favor?

_Yes world, Chris Abeley had become a psychopath._

Derrick Harrington opened his locker a few minutes later, shocked and disgusted to see the body of Kristen Gregory tumble out.

--

_**P**_OSSIBLE SERIAL KILLER ON THE LOOSE

'I'm afraid to say that this wasn't just a normal murder,' chief of county police station said gravely to our star reporter, Bridget Washington only yesterday. 'There have been some connections found between the two victims.'

When asked what kind of connections, the chief said that both seemed to have close associations with a Massie Block, and that the Sedan, license plate RTX0391 had been spotted outside of the Briarwood Academy soccer field.

If you have any information on the car, driver, or the victims, please contact us immediately. If you've withheld information, by law, you can be charged criminally for it. Call the following number at any time, 718-VICTIMS. That is 718-842-8467.

We urge you to call with any information!

-Bridget Washington, July fifteenth.

--

"_**C**_an you believe the things that are going on now?" Mr. Abeley asked, shaking his head sadly at the article. "A serial killer loose in Westchester. Who would've thought that this would've ever happened? Or who would've thought that the people we know would've been affected? He shook his head in disappointment.

"I never imagined it," Chris replied, the corners of his mouth curling upwards. "This is depressing me; can we talk about something else?"

Layne just watched her older brother in awe, silently contemplating.


	6. What Happens

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed, I'm not the character creator.**

**AN: I'm getting really bored with this story. Any ideas on how I can wrap it up?**_**6**_

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_**T**_wo funerals in like two weeks. This was heartbreaking, and it scared Massie to no end. Her boyfriend and one of her best friends! She was even too sad to stand by her own friends, mainly because Olivia Ryan was there, and she thought it was a wedding. Why did Alicia hang with her again?

Anyway, as the minister spoke in a gravelly, depressing tone, Massie sighed there alone, until a finger tapped her shoulder. She whirled around, ready to run. You never know, it just might've been the supposed serial killer coming to get her.

"Oh, hi Chris," she mumbled, eyes brimming with tears as the coffin was slowly lowered into the ground. This was too much. Forget staying composed, _Kristen was gone!_

"Who were you expecting, Sweeney Todd?" Chris Abeley asked softly, a sad smile dancing across his face.

Massie just sniffled, and rested a head on his shoulder. He was like a big brother in some ways…she guessed. No wonder she'd liked him once upon a time. "Why did she have to die?" Massie sniffled again.

"I don't know…" Chris just replied, patting her back supportively. He kept his eyes fixed on the distance, but it wasn't like she could see. If she had been looking at his face instead of burying her face in his shoulder, she would've seen that his eyes had clouded over.

"I'm really glad you're here," Massie sighed.

"Good," Chris murmured. His voice changed when he said that. It was hungry, monstrous. Massie tensed up, but dared not move. Something, which she guessed were her instincts, told her not to.

--

_**L**_ayne had made three mistakes that day after the funeral. The first thing she did was come into Chris's room without knocking. It wasn't like he kept severed heads in his room; it was just a guy thing. Little sisters were supposed to knock before coming in – and either way, the answer would be no. But, Layne just barged into the room, slamming the door behind her.

The second mistake was she interrupted Chris's daily dosage of _Family Guy_, today's moment just happened to be the scene where Stewie beat Brian up for the betting money he owed him. As if that wasn't bad enough, Layne stood in front of the television, right when Stewie took out the flamethrower.

And lastly, she turned off the television, giving Chris the same look his mom did when she gave him _the talk_. Chris looked up at her, wondering what was so urgent that she had to turn the television off. It kind of reminded him of Bambi or Fawn or whatever.

"We need to talk." Layne's face remained solemn.

"What, are you breaking up with me?" Chris pretended to cry. "Oh why!" He leaned over and turned the television back on.

"_That's what happens!"_

Layne rolled her eyes, and sat next to Chris, giving him the 'break up' look. It reminded him of just earlier, when a tearful Massie had turned to him for comfort. Not Derrick, but _him_. He was victorious.

"No, I know what you did," Layne snapped. "I know what you did and I'm going to tell Massie. I don't think she'll want to cry on your shoulder if she ever found out." She looked down at him with piercing eyes. Chris stood to his full height and (was it his imagination?) she drew back a little.

"What exactly did I do?" He asked, sounding slightly amused. "Tell me Layne, what are you going to tell Massie?"

Layne took a shaky breath before looking up at his face. "I'm going to tell her it was you. You killed Dempsey and Kristen." Her expression remained unreadable, as did his. He looked her in the eye, hardening his stare. Layne didn't even flinch. The most she knew he was capable of was tickling her to death.

He took a step closer, ten times more menacing. Layne swallowed hard and backed up, knocking into one of his old CD collections. She no longer looked triumphant. What, did she expect him to suddenly come clean and arrest himself?

"I don't think I heard you, what were you going to tell Massie?" Chris asked, in a soft voice.

"That I'm sorry for her l-loss," Layne stammered.

"What was that upstairs?" Mr. Abeley's voice came from the stairwell, sounding strict.

"Nothing!" Both of them chimed, temporarily distracted. Layne picked the CDs back up and dropped them in a pile, before hastily exiting the room.

"_Yeah man, that's what happens!" _

--


	7. Blank

**Disclaimer: Do I own? Why don't you tell me?**

**AN: Okay, I don't know when this came. I guess I'm like the Joker, I don't plan things. )**

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_**7**_

_**D**__ear Chris,_

_Please don't rip this up and throw it in the fireplace when you see it, just take the time to sit down and read it. Even though our breakup was devastating – Skye even told me that you seemed to like Massie Block. Uh, ew, that's illegal. Well anyway, I was thinking of all of the good times, and I wanted to know: wanna get back together?_

_Love, (Seriously, love)_

_Fawn (xoxo)_

He kneaded his temples, trying to make sense of the note. There was no doubt it was really from Fawn, and not some prank, the stationary with a baby deer on it was a dead giveaway. Not to mention the loopy handwriting and the fact that it was written in red pen – something Fawn deliberately did to annoy teachers.

His fingers traced her name, but his head was a blank, as if the clouds had gone away. He did nothing but sit there, rubbing his head with his left hand, tracing with his right, and stare at the letter. It wasn't until the baby deer seemed to wink at him that a thought buzzed through his head.

_That was what he'd wanted back that year before Massie re-entered his life._

That letter was the thing that was supposed to make him jump up and cheer, then recompose himself, and call up some of his football buddies to go and loiter by her favorite Starbucks for some PDA.

_Skye even told me that you seemed to like Massie Block. Uh, ew, that's illegal._

That was almost true. He was a junior in high school now, and another thought struck him like lightning. What kind of high school guy was into eighth graders? That was demeaning…wasn't it?

He pounded a fist on the desk in frustration, causing the cup of strawberry Fruitopia and Sprite to fall over, leaving red stains on the carpet. His mother would freak out at the strawberry-scented mess, and call a maid just to clean it specially. But, who cared what she thought?

Why was this so confusing? He felt void of emotion, and anger seemed to go hand-in-hand with his uncertainty. He should've known, he'd killed for one, one on he'd discovered on the rebound from the other. Chris didn't have a sense of who to choose, what to do.

And he didn't like the feeling.

Fawn's note was shoved in a desk (coincidentally filled of notes from her, ranging from _Pick me up at eight_ to _Sorry but I'm allergic to those flowers you gave me_), and the newspapers were shoved in a desk (coincidentally filled with pictures of Trixie.)

There was only one place to get his mind off of things:

Gallagher Farms.

--

_**L**_ayne waited for the door to close, and for the sound of her brother's footsteps to fade away before snatching her phone up, and dialing a number quickly.

"Hello?" Fawn's airy voice sounded on the other line. "How'd it go?"

"I don't know, he just stared at it and left." Layne made sure that the butler, Manson, wasn't around before sitting down on the kitchen island. The Abeley's left their children home alone daily from ten-thirty-one in the morning, to nine-twenty-six on the dot. Unless you counted the rare occasion that Claire came over. They seemed to think it was okay to leave Chris and his visitors alone, but not Layne.

"Left? Well, how did he look when he left?" She sounded so hopeful, it made Layne feel guilty.

"I don't know, blank."

"Yes! He always looks blank before we get back together!" Fawn proudly declared. "Thanks Elena!" She hung up before Layne could correct her.

--

**INSANELAYNE: **don't go 2 gallagher farms 2day. Just don't.

Massie blinked at the text message, wondering why the person was warning her about going to see Brownie. More importantly, how had Layne Abeley gotten her phone number?

"You should go," Alicia informed her, picking at the salad half-heartedly. "Just to spite her."

"I was going to do that anyway," Massie, who'd been extremely snappy with everyone lately, snapped. "Tell Dylan I had to leave." She dropped the tip on the table, and grabbing her purse, walked out with as much confidence and poise as she could muster.

But, on the inside, she was shaking.

* * *

**Alright readers this is up to you! Should he return to Fawn for a Chrawn/Massington end? Or should he keep being scary, and then I'll finish it with an epilogue?**


End file.
